Silence
by EnigmaticExorcist
Summary: A group of strange trolls decide to play Sgrub, but get more than what they bargained for. After numerous shenanigans, they are eventually sent to the universe of the familiar Pre-Scratch trolls we all know and love. Will they survive?
1. Feleti Leflot - 1

**== Be the lowly yellow-blood.**

Hmph. How rude.

You now the lowly yellow-blood, and in mere moments, your precious midnight stroll is ruined.

Instead of strolling, like you should be doing on a midnight stroll, you are now sitting in a dumpster.

You were robbed, and you now have lost one of your yummy grubloafs. They were a gift from your friend, who for some reason decided to celebrate your wriggling day. Although you see such celebrations pointless, you don't mind the parties and free presents. After all, such accomodations are much appreciated. A tinge of guilt for taking advantage of that shows up in the back of your think pan, but such feelings are quickly removed. You'll make it up to her someday. In fact, making it up to her is obligatory, and every proper troll knows that obligatory actions are mandatory. You are aware that she would in fact take advantage of such a situation, but you're not her, and it still feels wrong.

Climbing out of the dumpster, you spit out some weird gooey substance. Whatever it is, it tastes horrible, and it is probably rotten. You wish that you could scrub the taste out of your mouth forever, but you can't. That sounds silly, and even if it wasn't silly, you don't have the tools for that at the moment.

"Bluh! Oh, what is this stuff?!"

Obviously, no one is there to answer that.

If there was someone there to answer that, it would actually be horrifying, because that "someone" could only be the robber. Although you'd like to punch him in the sniff-node and rip out his pump-biscuit, you're not in the right physical conditions for that, obviously. You were just suddenly pounced on, and that disdainful cretinous douchecrumpet decided to knock some of your teeth out for good and painful measure. What an asshole.

You are currently not in the right mental conditions as well, due to that you would be raging too much to actually focus on using your psionic powers.

Sighing, you dust off your clothes, and make your day down the street. The sun is bound to rise soon, and you need a few hours of sleep.


	2. Feleti Leflot - 2

**== Go back to your hive and make a proper introduction.**

You arrive back to your one-story dwelling, slamming the door behind you. You make sure to securely lock it, as you don't want any more thieves causing a commotion.

You platonically hate them. In fact, you platonically hate them so much that you wish those nooksniffers would be tied up on a post and be sentenced to a slow roasting in front of the Alternian sun for a few hours, alive.

You wish that robbing others was a crime, but if you're the one robbed, it's somehow not illegal. Well, unless that other person is lower on the hemospectum, but how can you prove that? That troll didn't wear his blood color on his sleeve, and he's long gone, anyways. You want justice, but you're not getting any. Your whining isn't going to help dish out the sweet justice, either.

Resigned, you trudge to your respiteblock. You attempt to make a proper introduction, whatever that means. Your introduction was awesome. But alas, the ridiculous expectations for introductions were not met.

Well, let's get to it.

Your name is Feleti Leflot. You are enthusiastic about debates, legal dramas, and getting excuses to use your nunchucks or your pistol on other trolls. Of course, your strife deck includes nunchuckind, as well as pistolkind. They are the perfect set of weapons, each symmetrically designed. Being the haxor that you are, you use your psionics to make your firepower stronger. In fact, getting excuses to smack people with a weapon is the reason why you flarp.

Although you suck at flarping, you still get to use your nunchucks, and with your friends at your side, you somehow manage to survive. Your position in this group is unsteady, and you realized that it would be harder to get closer to these trolls, unlike the rest of the hundred platonic internet friends. Despite that, this group is where you keep your closest bonds. Here, you have an insane moirail and an irritating kismesis. Your other quadrants aren't all filled, but you do have a flush-crush on a certain someone. The rest of your group either platonically hates/likes you, is flushed for you, thinks you're useful, or doesn't care about you.

Overall, you are a rather lucky person, even though you suffer from bouts extreme moments of unluckiness—this would be one of those bouts.


	3. Feleti Leflot - 3

**== Log onto Trollian and pester your moirail.**

Shaking your head, you sit in front of your husktop.

One of the most pleasant activities in your life would be going onto Trollian. It doesn't require wi-fi, you can make many internet friends, and you can effortlessly contact your actual friends.

You double-click Trollian, and you are happy to know that all your friends are online. This doesn't usually happen, seeing that some of them are usually busy, and not having the time to log on. Perhaps this night was somehow more special. It's more likely, however, that they are all bored insomniacs.

You are about to pester your moirail, but he pesters you first.

What a delightfully horrible pun.

Being the respectful and strife-seeking troll that you are, you answer him. You always look for a good opportunity to talk with someone, even if that someone was a stranger or your worst enemy. You like talking with others, especially when you're arguing with others, as arguing usually gives you a strange sense of gratification.

 ** _\- - creativelyGenociding [CG] started pestering conditionallyConstructive [CC] - -_**

[CG]: I have received notice that youu are awake at this unngodly houur.

[CC]: ..G{}{}d j{}b, b{}!..

[CC]: ..Y{}{} have n{}w remembered h{}w t{} use y{}ur eyes!ght..

[CG]: I donn't have the time for youur cringey commennts.

[CG]: Youu're making me feel quuite crabby.

[CC]: ..What a del!ghtfully h{}rrible pun..

[CC]: ..Your puns are bad, and you sh{}uld feel bad..

[CG]: Obscure references and memes, too?

[CG]: Youu're stooping as low as youur caste, aren't youu?

[CC]: **..shooshpap..**

[CC]: ..S{}, ! can guess that y{}u want t{} tell me s{}mething, are you n{}t?..

[CG]: Yep.

[CG]: First of all, youu're a shitlord.

[CC]: ..And !'m pr{}ud!..

[CG]: Second, you should've received Sgrub, which we talked about earlier.

[CC]: ..! have the d{}wnl{}ad l!nk..

[CG]: Annd?

[CC]: ..But ! w!ll be busy tomm{}r{}w..

[CG]: That's disappoinnting, but uunnderstanndable.

[CG]: I'd very muuch appreciate if youu couuld tell me why, thouugh. 8}(

[CC]: ..S{}me d!sh{}n{}rable n{}{}kl!cker jumped me and st{}le my stuff..

[CG]: I guuess you need to lick youur wounnds annd all...

[CG]: Wait, please pauuse your enndless onnpour of blatherinng gibberish.

[CG]: WHAT?!

[CG]: Youu, the oh-so-high-annd-mighty psychic-haxxor Feleti...

[CC]: ..Shaddap..

[CG]: ...Got robbed annd beatenn uup by a "weakass plebeiann?"

[CG]: Shit, youu muust be losing youur luucky streak.

[CC]: ..You sa!d !t y{}urself..

[CC]: ..! am actually am g{}!ng t{} g{} l!ck my w{}unds and all..

[CG]: I'm coming over RIGHT NNOW.

[CC]: ..Wa!t, really?..

[CC]: ..wutwutwutbutwa!..

[CG]: "..You sa!d !t y{}urself.."

 _ **\- - creativelyGenociding [CG] ceased pestering conditionallyConstructive [CC] - -**_

You now realize that your moirail is coming over. You then realize that the inside of your hive looks like shit. You also realize that you don't give a damn. Of course, you can always tune out the whining of your moirail, so you simply shrug. You're used to that sort of response, and he probably is, too.

Shrugging, you wait for him to arrive.

You're rather patient, after all.


	4. Leivon Velrus - 1

**== Be the insane moirail.**

You are the moirail, but the narrator and you do not have any comment on whether or not your sanity may be intact.

Because no one has confirmed your state of sanity, you may or may not be insane.

However, even if you denied that you are insane, you would know that an insane troll would either not care or think that everyone else around him is insane. Most likely, only a scholar on psychology, a highly-social person, or the forementioned insane troll would have such a high amount of awareness about what constitutes an "insane" person. The professional definition of insanity and the common connotation of insanity is loosely used so often, only vagueness and confusion surround the clear constitution of insanity.

Anyways, even if you accepted the possible statement that you are insane, then you would appear like a shitlord or confirm that you embrace your apparent state of insanity. If you confirm your sanity, perhaps you are a boring person, a comphensation-requiring person, or a normal person. If you shrug everything off and state that sanity seems overrated, you're an edgy teenager or a pseudo-anarchist. Overall, it seems like a lose-lose situation.

Thus, you have no comment.

You are Leivon Velrus, and you are a verbose intellectual smartass with a penchant for swordfighting, social psychology, and detective work. Bearing a belief in your superiority due to your violet-blooded status, you take painstaking measures to extend your vocabulary, practice your combat skills, and create reasons to use your arrogant sneer. You are secretly an anarchist, and you wish to someday create an army to overthrow the current monarch, crowning yourself as the leader. It's going to be difficult work, which is why you have a hidden stash of military strategy books, resurgent flags, and pirate posters. Of course, you wield the bladekind specibus in your strife deck, and after an incident involving spaghetti and trains, you somehow obtained an umbrellakind specibus as well. You prefer not to talk about it, and you rarely ever use the umbrellakind specibus, sometimes forgetting that it exists.

Right now, you have received a form of notification that someone has successfully attempted to batter and thieve from your strangely-mannered moirail.

You are seething in anger. Nobody assaults your moirail and gets away with it.

"...I am going to hunt that fucker down and shove my goddamn blade down his goddamn throat...!"

The sound of the shout, uninterrupted by anything else, echoes through the walls of the respiteblock.

Your sea-lion lusus, looking confused and curious, peers at you from behind the door. It looks scared and threatened at first, but slightly calmed down when it saw you. He probably thought that you were an intruder, poised to strike down and assassinate his troll in mere moments. You feel rather insulted at the notion that you would be taken down so easily. Even if there was an assassin there to loudly and messily cull you, which is preposterous, you would already be aware of his or her presence.

Some trolls say that you have a tendency to overthink things, but you dismiss them and say that you're being smart and cautionable.

Irritated, you stare at your shivering lusus, using harsh undertones in your voice. "What do you want, huh?!"

Of course, the lusus does not have an ability to speak to you. He is simply your bodyguard beast, who happens to not have the proper vocal cords for such activities. Silent, it shakes its head, and slips out of the room.


End file.
